


Neon Hearts, Rivet Souls

by Oricalle



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Crimson Flower Kinda, Guns, Likely One-Shot, Mild Blood, Mild Language, Multi, Post-Timeskip Ages, Spoilers for Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Tags Will Be Expanded If Story Continues, title pending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21664126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oricalle/pseuds/Oricalle
Summary: In the year 7500, the streets of the giant metropolis of Fodlan are dominated by SeirosCorp.  Those unwilling to abide by their laws are banished to the shadows of slums, many forced into lives of violent crime in order to stay alive.  During a routine raid of a SeirosCorp warehouse, the Black Eagles crew recover some unusual cargo, unaware that the fate of all Fodlan may rest in their hands.A Fire Emblem: Three Houses Cyberpunk AU.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Petra Macneary, Linhardt von Hevring/Caspar von Bergliez
Comments: 26
Kudos: 64





	Neon Hearts, Rivet Souls

“I’m just saying, there’s no beating the real deal.”

As his friend’s voice crackled out of his headpiece, Linhardt gave a heavy sigh, throwing his head back in frustration. Some things were consistent. The sky over Fodlan was filled with smoke, the neon lamps in the back lot of the SeirosCorp warehouse were far too bright, and Caspar was a complete idiot.

“Don’t drag me back into this.” he hissed.

“I get it. You don’t wanna argue because you’ve got no arguments. That’s okay. You can be wrong sometimes, buddy!”

“I despise you. Do you know that? Of course I have arguments! Artificial meat is superior in every way.”

On the other side of the warehouse, mere feet from the entrance, Caspar had to keep himself from leaping to his feet over the indignity of it all. It wouldn’t do to blow their cover early again, after the lecture it had earned him last time.

“Those are fighting words! You know it tastes worse than the good stuff!”

“It’s a fraction of the cost, has a fraction of the environmental impact, and only the most utterly pretentious of fools claim they can even taste the difference.” Linhardt calmly responded. “They’ve been iterating on the formula for a century. It’s perfect.”

“Just because you’ve got the taste buds of a dumb baby doesn’t mean we all do, Lin.”

Caspar swore under his breath as the name slipped out.

“Sorry, sorry, cod-”

“Use the proper code names.” hissed another voice, dark and angry.

“Yeah, I know! It just came out, okay?”

A melodic giggle came from over the airwaves. “It seems to “come out” every week, dear.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Do…” He caught his tongue at the last moment. “Doooorn, it sure is cold out here!”

Nearly every channel on Caspar’s headset lit up with the sounds of barely stifled giggles or groans, Linhardt’s icy response cutting through them all.

“Excellent recovery. We should make you the getaway driver. Any other wisdom you’d like to share with us?”

“Yeah!” Caspar grunted. “I’d like to tell you where you can stick your-”

“Silence.”

Every channel cut to quiet as a modulated voice sounded, specifically amplified by their gear to be slightly louder than standard issue.

“The first guard will be emerging from the door in approximately thirty seconds. Role call initiated. State name and status.”

“Cauchemar, in position on the second floor.”

“Aria, waiting out front.”

“Steed here. I am currently at the corner of Macuil and Third.”

“Hale. Out back.”

“Pummeler, out front!”

“Rapier is here! I am being ready outside the gate!”

“Th-this is Plum! I’m on the roof of the bank! It’s the bank, right? I-I didn’t screw up, did I?”

“You’re in the correct location, Plum.” Their leader’s voice was inscrutable, the garbling software installed in her mask scouring away any signs of unease. “Activate scrambling software now. I want silence until the operation begins, people.”

With a tap on his gauntlets, Caspar turned on his personal cloaking array. The shrill whine of a jamming signal rang through his ears, and he grimaced to himself, fidgeting behind his cover. Glancing behind him, he could just make out the silhouette of “Aria” and “Rapier”, each of them crouched behind one of the concrete pillars that littered the entryway. Neither of them seemed as antsy as he was, but patience was never Caspar’s strong suit, and the relentless trilling of his own gear in his ears didn’t do anything to soothe that.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long. Ahead of him, the duraglass door to SeirosCorp Warehouse #019 swung open, and a figure dressed in their typical security garb walked out into the fluorescent light. Caspar had always thought the SeirosSec uniform looked like the kind of thing a medieval knight would wear, with the shining white armor and sleek full helmet you’d find on the pages of a fantasy novel. The pulse rifle they carried tended to break the illusion, though as did the glowing stunpike slung across this one’s back. It was for “non-lethal” engagements, although it could certainly kill someone, as he had seen. And it hurt like hell, as he had felt.

“Hello? Hello!”

Aria shakily rose to her feet, limping out into the center of the entryway. The Sec goon raised his gun and took aim at her, and Caspar felt his nails digging into his gloves. This was always his least favorite part of the plan.

“State your business, citizen.” came the voice from under the helmet.

With a pained wince, Aria lurched downward. “Help! I’ve been shot!” She gripped at her knee with both hands, tears beginning to flow down her cheeks.

Lowering their weapon, the Security worker ran forward, stepping out from beneath the building’s balcony and rushing past the hiding spots of both Caspar and Rapier. The armored figure knelt in front of Aria, straining their neck to look for her wound.

“Where were you hit?”

Aria cupped a hand to her ear. “Wh-what?”

“The shot! Where did it hit you?”

Aria shook her head. “I can’t understand you!”

“Where were you shot?”

Aria tapped her temple with a finger. “The helmet! I can’t understand you with the helmet on!”

Groaning, the SeirosSec guard removed their helmet, revealing a shiny bald head and an expression that read with equal parts disgust and annoyance. It was exactly the opportunity they had been waiting for.

“Go.” came a steely voice, and once again, the Black Eagles began their raid.

From across the street, a laser rifle discharged, sending a single red bolt directly between the guard’s eyes. He didn’t have time to do more than gasp before he crumpled to the floor, lifeless. Aria sprang into action, diving across his body and beginning to rifle through his pockets, coming up with a plastic stick attached to a chain. She handed it off to Rapier, who was now dashing across the courtyard, her ponytail swishing behind her as she unsheathed a glowing red blade. Caspar wasn’t far behind, quickly keying in a command on his wrist-mounted computer. He could feel the familiar sensation of liquid metal coating squirting over his hands, coating them as the pods in his arms released a stimulant into his bloodstream with a hiss. Everything began to feel clearer as he reached the duraglass door, watching as Rapier swiveled out of the way. He couldn’t ever see it, due to the visor that covered her face, but he could just hear the glee in her voice as she called out to him.

“Bust it down!”

With a guttural scream, Caspar plunged a fist into the door, feeling it fight back in vain for a few moments before shattering entirely, scattering shards across the floor and clearing the way into the building’s lobby. He could hear the stamping of armored boots against the floor in the distance, looking up just in time to watch a pair of guards come stamping into the room. Color burst forward as they fired their weapons, sending a barrage of laser bolts towards the door. Caspar quickly brought up his arms, trying to angle the deflectors strapped to his arms towards the oncoming shots. His limbs stung as errant shots ate away at the shielding on his armor, setting off alarms that drowned out the buzzing of his cloaking.

“Be clearing the way, please!” 

Rapier ran through the doorframe, twirling her blade in front of her. The energy it gave off formed a barrier as she moved, sending the laser bolts bouncing to the sides, hissing before they dissipated. Dropping to her knees, she skidded forward, bringing her weapon up in a diagonal slice through the first Security guard’s hip and into his chest. Their partner tried to draw his stunpike, but Rapier was faster, transforming the end of her slice into a lunging stab. She pierced the guard’s chest, and he toppled to the ground in a heap.

“Initial resistance is being eliminated.” she whispered, letting her headpiece carry the sound to her allies.

“Good work. Proceed to Step 2. Cauchemar, is everything going according to plan?”

Caspar could hear the click of a mute being disabled, followed by the garbled sound of screams.

“Oh, just swimmingly.”

“Good. Get moving, everyone, I’m on my way.”

Caspar swiveled and beckoned towards Aria, who was still jogging up the entryway towards the door. “Hurry up, will ya?” She rolled her eyes, but acquiesced, quickening her pace until she was marching down the building’s central hallway, side by side with her two allies.

“I have to admit, I wasn’t sure how well the “I’ve been shot!” routine would work out.” she muttered. “Not after Hale tried it last month and the guy didn’t believe him.”

“It is because you are so beautiful!” Rapier chirped. Caspar held in his laughter at the way Aria’s cheeks reddened beneath her sunglasses. He couldn’t deny that seeing her flustered for once, when she was so eager to inflict it on others, managed to cheer him up. The levity was helpful, tempering the mix of adrenaline and stimulants that rushed through his brain in the midst of a mission. He’d heard unsavory rumors about lone wolf stim-users who got too amped up and ended up leveling a city block before having to be shot. It was one of the many reasons he was grateful to have such a valuable crew with him.

As they reached the rear entrance to the warehouse, Rapier withdrew the key they’d lifted from the first fallen guard and slid it into the reader. The light above them flashed green, and the door swung open, revealing Linhardt, fully armored in his “Hale” garb.

A clear plastic mask covered his face, ending in a pair of filtration devices jutting out in front of his mouth. He wore a white shieldsilk robe and a nozzle was strapped to each of his palms, with clear tubes running up his sleeves, to what Caspar knew to be a variety of concealed gas canisters strapped to the inside of his outfit.

“How’d the “I’ve been shot” ruse go?” he asked, stepping into the building.

“Hell of a lot better than when you did it.” Caspar chirped, slapping his friend on the back. Linhardt groaned, glaring at him.

“Don’t do that when you’re still on the stims. Pain pills aren’t cheap.” With a groan, he straightened himself and began to march forward. “Let’s get this over with.”

Doubling back into the hall, the group began to move again as Linhardt spoke into the communicator.

“This is Hale. I’m in the building.”

“Alright. Plum has reached Steed’s vehicle, let’s get this done before they get here. Are you ready, Cauchemar?”

The mute clicked again, and this time the screaming was gone, replaced with what sounded like far-off groans. A husky voice chuckled. “I thought you would never ask. We’re clear.”

Caspar and the others stopped before a steel door, the same as they did with every SeirosCorp warehouse they raided. One downside to mass production, predictability. A few moments later, it was wrenched open.

“Come in.” said Cauchemar, his grin looking far more malicious than welcoming. The glowing knife in his hand, still dripping with… _something_ certainly didn’t help matters. As they paraded past him, Caspar surreptitiously reached a hand behind his back, nodding as he felt Hale’s fingers entwine with his own. Their team’s medic had never quite grown comfortable with the carnage that remained after one of Cauchemar’s solo missions. Even Caspar tried to keep his eyes off of the corpses that lay strewn around the room. Inspiring fear, he knew, was one of his teammate’s most effective strategies, but that didn’t mean he had to like the aftermath. When he glanced over at Cauchemar, trying to see the expression under the man’s hood, he was met with a simple tilt of the head.

“The ventilation control room is on the north side.” he muttered, clearly not having suddenly grown a liking for any small talk. Caspar nodded in response, and lead the group into the door Cauchemar had indicated.

A Security corpse lay on the ground, a small pool of blue blood marking where Cauchemar’s dagger had found its mark. He could feel Hale’s grip tighten, and took up a position in front of the body, trying to block it from view as Rapier rushed to the computer in the rear of the room. She slid the keyfob beneath the monitor, waiting a few moments for the system to acknowledge her access device. When it finally let up, emitting a cheery beep and displaying a screen of options, Caspar saw the corners of her mouth turn down beneath her visor.

“Plum? I am needing your assistance.” she whispered.

“Y-yeah?” The voice coming over the intercom was accompanied by loud classical music, the kind of stuff Caspar pictured old rich men in stuffy suits listening to while the world fell apart. “What’s going on?”

“How do you open the vents on the terminal?”

“Oh! Just that? Uh, hang on, I’ll tell you!”

As Plum rattled off instructions, doubling over her words and frantically apologizing, Caspar leaned against the wall, watching Aria inspect her weapon. She held the silver gun with one hand, a scowl on her face as she picked at a chip in the handle.

“Finished!” 

At Rapier’s shout, Linhardt stepped to her side, watching as a hatch next to the console clicked open. He pushed a hand inside.

“Everyone better have remembered their inoculations. I’m not carrying you back.”

When noone informed him otherwise, the medic flipped a switch on his gauntlet. A blue tinted gas began to seep forth from the nozzle in his palm, hissing as it was swept along the air current floating through the open pipe. With his free hand, Linhardt gave a thumbs up, before beginning to speak into his communicator.

“This is Hale. I’ve administered the torpor gas. Should incapacitate the guards in the cargo bay within fifty seconds.”

“Excellent.” said their leader. “Proceed to the saferoom and begin gathering whatever you can. Steed, what’s your ETA?” The blaring violins reappeared as the driver began to speak.

“Only a few minutes. Traffic is simply ridiculous today! Why, I would dare to say that-”

“That’s enough, Steed. It’s alright. This doesn’t change the plan, but be ready to defend yourselves in case of reinforcements, everyone. Get moving.”

With a definitive click, the conversation was over, and the Eagles filed out of the ventilation room, Linhardt keeping his eyes ahead and away from the carnage below. Caspar had never quite been able to figure out why their team’s medic got queasy on missions. It couldn’t have been the blood, Linhardt had been performing operations since he was 14 and he and Caspar made a living patching up wounded slum dwellers for discounts. Surely he was used to that. Maybe, then, it was the violence, the way they stepped out of their headquarters every night ready to kill or be killed. This sort of life clearly wasn’t the one Linhardt wanted to lead, but Caspar couldn’t figure out why. Not with the adrenaline pumping through his body, filtered into pure strength by the cocktail of stimulants from his cybernetics. He’d forget by morning.

Breaching the saferoom used to be the most dangerous part of any job. Standard issue SeirosSec mandated a set of two heavily armed guards outside the reinforced door at all times, as well as a detail of at least six in the room itself. Caspar had taken more shots than he cared to remember (or could) running through those doors, and he was lucky he’d never taken any worse damage.

Breachers were the most frequently replaced members of a Team.

Thanks to Hale’s torpor gas and their leader’s revised plans, this part of the operation no longer carried heavy risk of decapitation by plasma beam. The guards outside were crumpled on the ground, utterly incapacitated by the ventilated gas. The goons inside would be in the same state, Caspar knew, since only those inoculated could stay awake breathing the stuff in. As the Eagles approached the door, Caspar heard Rapier chuckle, pointing at one of the fallen guards.

“Aww. He is snoring. Like you, Pummeler!”

Aria scoffed. “Not quite, I couldn’t hear him upstairs.”

Caspar laughed at the good-natured prodding. “Really, guys?”

“May we please get on with it?” muttered Cauchemar, pulling his hood back. Slick black hair fell across his face. “The longer we tarry, the more likely it is we encounter additional difficulties.”

With order restored, Rapier snapped back into her professional facade. Drawing her blade, she flipped a switch on the handle. The red glow on the weapon shifted to a white one, the humming of its inner workings rising in pitch as she raised it into the air. With practiced motions, she plunged it into the door, melting through the material with ease. Slowly, Rapier carved a box-shaped slice out of the barrier, leaving behind a glowing trail of recently melted metal. Withdrawing her blade, she kicked the remnants away, leaving a portal large enough for the Eagles to easily squeeze through.

The saferoom in SeirosCorp Warehouse #019 looked nearly identical to the saferoom in SeirosCorp Warehouse #465, or Warehouse #213, or #921, or #006. The floor was littered with the unconscious forms of six Security troopers, incapicated by the torpor gas. The far wall was stacked with filing cabinets, each labeled with a neon colored sticker, exactly six centimeters to the left of the handle. The wall nearest the door would be lined with weapons on racks, with shelves of ammunition on each corner. The wall to the door’s left carried a number of safes, stocked with piles of credits, and the remaining section of the room would hold any experimental SeirosCorp prototypes underseeing iterations as they prepared for mass production. There was nothing quite out of the ordinary here, but something about the rather ordinary prototype holding bay struck Caspar as odd.

Amidst the usual displays of SeirosCorp branded household appliances, vehicle parts, computing accessories, and weaponry, there was something he’d never encountered before. A large black box, seemingly about six feet tall, was floating a few inches off the ground, transportation hover engines affixed to its underside. There was no shiny neon label plastered above it, detailing its contents for all to see. 

“You guys ever seen one of those before?” Caspar asked, pointing to the hovering box.

“Can’t say I have.” muttered Linhardt. “Doesn’t look like anything I’ve heard rumors about either. Certainly not the shape for a weapon.”

“I’d guess a coffin,” added Aria, tapping her chin, “but I don’t think even the Chairwoman would be that...on the nose.”

For a moment, the assembled Eagles simply stared at the floating device, something about it disturbingly transfixing. Just before Caspar could begin to walk towards it, a shout rose from behind him.

“Scatter, now!”

Behind him, Cauchemar had barked the order before swinging his body around, driving a vibrating dagger into what appeared to be thin air. A grunt came from the space, and the telltale shimmer of a cloaking field appeared.

They weren’t alone.

Reacting quickly, Hale released a cloud of smoke from his palms, filling the room with an obscuring mist. Caspar flipped his visor over his eyes, noting the two unexpected heat signatures in the room. One of them appeared to be locked in hand-to-hand combat with Cauchemar, dodging under his swipes and retaliating with blows of his own. On the other side of the room, a looming figure outlined in red pulled something from his belt.

“Take cover!” Caspar shouted, ducking behind the lip of the doorframe just in time to watch a peal of shots erupt into his former position, leaving scorch marks on the floor. He saw Aria grab Linhardt and tug him behind a rack of cabinets, but Cauchemar still had his back turned, sliding away from the slash of the other attacker’s knife. Rapier ran in front of him, twirling her weapon in a circular pattern. A shield of energy shot forth, gleaming through the haze and deflecting the shots.

“We’ve got trouble!” Caspar yelled into the communicator. “There are guys here! Didn’t see ‘em! They’re immune to the gas! It’s all gone to shit, boss!”

“I cannot be continuing much longer!” gasped Rapier, the fatigue in her voice audible. From their positions of cover, Caspar could see Aria and Hale returning fire towards the gunman, but their shots seemed to glance off, the ambusher showing no sign of discomfort.

“Boss? What do we do?” he called. To his surprise, the voice that answered him didn’t come from the communicator.

“Now, my turn.”

A figure cloaked in red dashed past him, a mask on her face and a gun in her hands. She burst into the battle, a bird of prey diving from the sky, and the tide turned.

Her weapon belched buckshot and flame, sending a wall of burning projectiles towards the gunman. Reacting fast to the unexpected attack, he shunted to the right, leaving the pellets to make flaming dents in the wall, but by the time he aimed his weapon again, she was upon him. Raising her gun, Emperor let loose a guttural war cry as a plasma field formed from the mount around the barrel, crackling to life in the shape of a wide blade. She brought it down, hard, cleaving through her opponent’s armor and severing his arm. He was dead before he hit the ground.  
The remaining assailant, still locked in a duel with Cauchemar, managed to shove him aside, rushing instead for the more immediate threat. With a wave of her gauntlet, Emperor dispersed a mist of red powder. As her attacker entered the cloud, she clapped her hands, and the mist burst into flames, eliciting a pained scream from the oncoming foe. She swung Aymr around once more, pointing its barrel in the direction of the injured man, and let loose another barrage of flaming shots. An eerie calm settled over the room, and when Hale’s fog finally dissipated, the Emperor stood victorious.

Her crimson armor gleamed, pulsing with an electric current. The dark smoke that billowed up from her shotgun swirled around the ceiling, forming a wispy crown above Emperor’s white mask. The digital eagle emblazoned on the front of her breastplate flickered in the dim light, completing the image of a conquering warrior standing amidst the remains of a battlefield.

“Apologies for the late arrival.” she said. “Let’s get to work.”

As the others began looting the safes, piling the credits into bags they carried on their belts, Emperor and Hale kneeled over the corpse of their attacker. He wore a black bodysuit with a pair of odd emitters attached to the shoulders, the likely source of his cloaking field. A gas mask covered his face, and when Hale eased it off, he gasped.

“This...He...he isn’t one of them. He was alive, Emperor.”

She was silent, examining the body from behind her mask. She was grateful it hid the shock on her face.

“Hey, boss, look at this!”

Emperor stood, walking to Pummeler’s position at the saferoom’s eastern wall. He patted the hovering box, his eyes wide behind the visor.

“What is it?” she asked.

“No clue! No label on it! That’s why it’s so interesting, right?”

“If I may…” With light steps, Cauchemar approached, his bag already loaded with stolen credits. “The fact that this particular warehouse seemed to have a pair of extra guards, special guards at that, indicates that whatever is within this container may be of substantial worth.”

“An astute analysis.” Emperor responded. “Pummeler, can you carry this back to the vehicle?”

“Totally!” he responded. “Give me just a sec to fill up my bag, then I’ll heft this on outta here.”

As he stomped off to the wall of safes, Emperor leaned over her newest prize. To her surprise, there was a glass window cut into the upper half of the box. Peering inside, she found it too hazy to make out the contents.

For just a moment, though, she felt a bizarre chill run up the back of her spine.

Edelgard, better known as “Emperor”, leader of the Black Eagles Reclaimers, had grown a suite of what felt like sixth senses in her times on the streets of Fodlan.

And she could have sworn that, in that moment, something inside the box was looking back.

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a little proof-of-concept I wanted to put out. I was toying with some AU ideas to write with, and this one felt good to me, so I did a prologue chapter.
> 
> Just to be absolutely clear, this is not confirmation that I'll be continuing this! I might, if I really get into it, but for now I want to focus on my current projects, I think.
> 
> No Super Secret Author's Notes this time, in case I do continue the story, because I don't want to spoil anything!
> 
> I hope that you enjoyed the story! Feel free to leave any feedback you have, I always appreciate it! Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
